


Nocturne

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kylo Ren Backstory, M/M, Mild Gore, Monster Kylo Ren, Rough Sex, Switching, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren was a monster.</p><p>Not just in the way that he was sure the majority of the Resistance thought of him but in a very literal sense. He couldn't explain it, didn't know what to call it. He only knew that it was something that had been clawing at his insides since he first heard that voice in his head, velvety and seductive, telling him he was meant for more, deserved more, destined for more.</p><p>This was the price he paid for more, and a heavy price it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this how werewolves work? Absolutely not. Is this how the Force works? Probably not. But, frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.
> 
> Not all of the tags are relevant just yet, but I didn't want anyone to get invested in a story that they'd eventually have to bail on because of a squick or a trigger they weren't expecting to appear. I might wind up removing some of them when I get more chapters fleshed out and I'll certainly add whatever is necessary as I go along.

Kylo’s gut lurched and his head spun. He stumbled down the corridor, bracing himself against the bulkhead and begging silently that the universe would not allow him to fall. It was their proximity to the Rishi moon that was causing the problem, he knew that, and it would only get worse when he made landing.

Kylo trembled and grabbed for purchase against the wall, his fingers curling tightly around some pipe or covered powerline. He laughed out loud thinking that whatever he was grabbing at might just bring the ship down if he wasn’t careful. The laugh became a howl of pain and he shuddered, gripping harder and collapsing the thin durasteel in his hand. Hot steam shot out of the crushed line—a pipe for sure—the burn of it through Kylo’s thick glove briefly diverting the agony splitting him to his core.

“Sir?”

“What?” He snapped and looked up from his hunched position against the bulkhead at the pair of Stormtroopers just beyond the next door. He snarled through his vocal modulator, not quite intending to make the sound, and they shifted into more defensible stances unconsciously.

“The General sent us to find you. We’re going to be close enough to use the supply shuttle within a standard hour.”

“Fine.” Kylo groaned and forced himself to stand up straight, still gripping the pipe, steam floating in a cloud around his shoulders and head.

“Sir are you… are you alright? Do you need medical?” The speaker, clearly the bolder of the pair of Troopers, took a hesitant step forward. “You… you look like you might need—“

“You will do well not to presume what I need, TD-3944.”

“I—“ There was a nervous tremor in the Trooper’s voice. “I just—“

Kylo released the pipe from his grip, the steam flooding out in earnest then, and twirled the hilt of his saber in his hand, powering it on as is moved through a lazy arc. The pair of troopers backed away several steps before hurrying off. Kylo shouted and his chest tightened, his ribs aching like they were being pried apart.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he made it to his quarters, but he was thanking the stars he had. His hands felt too large and his joints too tight as he struggled to free himself from his helmet and robes, dropping things carelessly on the floor as he did. He sucked in air like he’d been drowning and he yanked the heavily pleated tunic off of his shoulders, leaving himself shivering against the chill in the air of the artificial atmosphere and the fire burning in his belly in his undershirt and suspenders.

Kylo set to rifling through his chest of drawers, searching for where he’d hidden the box he needed and desperately trying to ignore the sharp pain lancing down his spine, hyperaware of the throb of it in each vertebra. He dumped the contents of drawers on the floor until he found it and began to fumble with the lock. Unable to get the tiny wheels clicked into place through unfeeling gloves, he yanked them off with his teeth, mortified at the blackened tips of his fingers and the way the skin of his knuckles had gone raw and begun to split. He swore and set to work again at the lock, making a deliriously triumphant sound when the lid finally sprang open. With shaking fingers he lifted out the hypo filled with a dose of Tranqarest—too small to knock him out, but strong enough to stop his body from betraying him—and plunged the needle into the meat of his shoulder.

Kylo gripped the frame of the chest of drawers, waiting for the relief that the sedative always brought and watching his hands. His knuckles grew less raw, though the broken skin did not mysteriously stitch back together. The discoloration in his fingertips faded until his hands were those he’d always known—pinkish pale and calloused from use.

His body still ached, fading from a violent pain to a tolerable throb.

He considered the pile of his robes on the floor, practicality a diversion from the panic pinging around inside of him. They weren’t going to be functional for hunting the monstrous eel on the Rishi moon’s surface. Their length made it far more likely that he’d become snagged in some rocky crag or between the massive jaws of the creature he was after.

_What_ the kriffing ten hells that Hux wanted with the thing was completely beyond Kylo. At the very least, he didn’t care if the thing was brought back dead or alive. Kylo was along for the ride to locate the thing and make sure most of the Troopers returned with life and limb rather than simply becoming a nice meal for the eels.

Satisfied that the Tranqarest was doing its job, Kylo let himself relax just slightly. He ducked into his refresher and grabbed the comb from the cabinet, pulling it roughly through his damp, tangled hair. With stiff fingers, joints cracking and popping as he worked, he wove the top section into a pair close-lying braids and tied them off. He avoided the mirror, knowing what his reflection would look like.

Eyes with pupils too wide, lips stained dark just inside like he’d sucked on a colorful sweet, nose crunched like he’d gotten into a fight with a Rancor. It would take some time for his body to resettle. It would take careful concentration, letting the Force reconstruct what it had actively broken down.

Because that’s what it was—the Force. Ripping through him, turning over flesh and bone. Taking and giving and transforming.

Kylo shrugged into a shirt, long-sleeved and high-necked, and a heavy tunic over that. Something easier to move in, something to keep him warm. He took a pair of gloves lined with thick fur from the scattered contents of his drawers and pulled them on. At least they’d arrived during the half of the moon’s standard year in which it was slightly less than deadly cold. With his helmet back in place and his saber at his hip, he took a deep breath and strode from his quarters destined for the hangar several levels below.

Kylo found himself wishing he’d have been sent to fetch this ridiculous giant kriffing fish on his own. The Stormtroopers were going to get everyone killed. Not for stupidity or lack of coordination—no, they were surprisingly adept over the uneven terrain and narrow ridges between massive craters and vents even without the Force to keep them upright. The problem instead was the amount of noise their gear made, echoing across the surface of the moon and into those under-foot death-traps.

Perhaps it was just Kylo. His senses still heightened by the thing he was struggling to keep at bay, undulled to normal perception by the Tranqarest.

Using the Force to find the creature he was looking for was mostly out of the question. He needed to conserve his energy, keep it tight and sharp to keep his chest from breaking open—keep it ready to subdue the beast. As such, their little hunting party was relying chiefly on the thermal scanner attached to the drone flying just ahead of them.

Kylo had half expected to be attacked by one of the Rishi moon’s giant eels within the first stretch of their search. Surprisingly, several standard hours later they were still empty handed.

“Wait.” The Trooper who was monitoring the feed from the drone on a datapad put an arm out, stopping the group. “Just ahead.” He glanced up at Kylo, tilting the screen toward him.

Kylo put a hand up, stopping the Troopers as they began to move forward again. He relaxed into the thrum of the Force around him, feeling with tendrils of it that snaked down into the craters and vents spread before them, searching for their prey.

_There you are._

Kylo instructed the group to fan out, slowly and quietly, surrounding the vent that he suspected the thing would slither out of bent on gobbling them up whole.

“You, with me.” Kylo strode forward, the Trooper tucking his datapad into the pack at his hip and readying his blaster. The weapon alone wouldn’t do much more damage than mosquito might, but that was why Kylo was there.

There risking more than life and limb for a pfassking fish.

Hux’d better be satisfied.

The Trooper looked to Kylo as they drew close to the vent he’d indicated. Kylo nodded. The Trooper lifted his blaster, braced himself, and shot off several rounds into the hole.

The Troopers crouched, the instinct to cover their ears against the otherworldly screech that came out of the vent kicking in.

“Steady!” The Trooper beside Kylo shouted at his comrades. He’d have to let Phasma know about the Trooper’s fortitude in addition to his field report. “Steady, you kriffing lot of ugly nerf herders!” Kylo nearly laughed. Perhaps less fortitude, more determined terror.

The eel rose up out of the vent with its double set of mandibles spread wide and its teeth dripping viscous saliva. It snapped and snarled, shaking its head furiously as the Troopers unleashed a hail of blaster fire.

“Don’t destroy the thing you fools!” Kylo raised his hands, envisioning a bubble around the eel that would keep it from lashing out at them, slowly stitching it together from the discreet particles of energy wavering in the air. “Restrain it!”

The Troopers who had fanned out into defensive positions each lowered their blasters alternately, shooting instead a massive hook attached to a durasteel cable. The hooks bit into the eel’s flesh, cables going taut. It thrashed and screeched as the Troopers dug their heels in. The careful balance between control over himself and control over great beast snapping its jaws at him that Kylo had achieved shattered. He bit down hard into his bottom lip, the salty taste of blood wetting his teeth and tongue. His shoulders felt like they might pop clear out of the sockets. His own jaw ached, the hinge grating one side against the other and his teeth shifting and grinding.

“Sir, we can—“ The Trooper closest to Kylo screamed as the eel lunged forward, snatching him up off the ground between its massive double jaws. The eel swung its head back and forth violently as it bit down, flinging half of the Trooper’s body into a crater dozens of yards away and swallowing down the rest of him armor and all.

So much for needing to remember to recommend him to his Captain.

The others began panic, the tethers they held gaining slack. Kylo could feel it, the tremor in their energies rising and crashing in waves against the craggy surface they all stood on.

“Hold!” Kylo gathered himself as quickly as he could. He grabbed his saber off of his hip as he crouched low, readying himself before springing up into the air. He drew his arms up, hands on the saber in a firm double-grip, and drove the crackling blade down through the eel’s eye. He held fast, thighs tight and knees locked as the eel fell, hitting the ground hard and sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

Kylo drew his blade from the now-dead eel’s eye socket, the smell of burned flesh flooding the ventilation system of his mask to make him gag.

“Hail the shuttle.” The calls of a flock of Neebray split the sudden stillness of the air. “ _Now._ Unless you want to deal with them as well.”

It took far longer than anticipated to load the eel into the cargo bay of the shuttle. Kylo retreated to the cockpit, away from the noise of the arguing Troopers—though with his senses skewing toward too high and too sharp he may well have been standing amongst them as they bickered.

He balled his hands into fists. His hips and shoulders ached, his angles shifting against his will. He’d need another dose of Tranqarest. He needed to get _off_ of this Force forsaken moon.

_This thing is too big._

_He said dead or alive, I don’t see why it’s an issue._

_Dead or alive doesn’t mean hacked to pieces, dimwit._

_What the hell does he want with it anyway?_

_He didn’t say. Our orders were to retrieve it, not to question the reason why._

_Look, Radar is dead! I don’t care why the frack he wants it. Just get it on the kriffing ship!_

_I don’t see why we can’t cut it in half._

_So then we’ll have to scrub this whole bay down when its insides fall out? Absolutely not._

Kylo eased himself up out of the pilot’s seat and moved slowly toward the back of the shuttle. Foregoing the ladder, knowing his grinding joints would be tray him on the narrow rungs, he opened the hatch and dropped through. The Troopers startled as he landed, bouncing down low and rising up in a fluid motion. He huffed in discomfort, the sound coming out aggressive and testy through the modulator.

“Why are we not en route to the _Finalizer_ yet?”

“Sir, we—“

“You,” Kylo gestured to the Trooper at the far end of the bay near the pulley that assisted with large cargo, “Are those lines secure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Start cranking. You four, with me.” Kylo strode toward the loading ramp, past the open maw of the eel and through the tacky puddle of its blood on the textured durasteel floor. He glanced at the hooks still embedded in its muscled body and hoped they wouldn’t simply rip through as the cables began to lose slack. The Troopers followed obediently. “Push.”

They moved around the thing, pushing it forward, guided by the crank with Kylo smoothing the process along with just a light touch from the Force.

“I trust you all can figure out how to get the rest of it on board. Your Captain will hear about your incompetence upon our return.”

“Yes, sir.” They set to work immediately, pushing the remainder of the eel’s body in with some effort, doubling it over.

Finally off the ground once again, Kylo locked the cockpit door and set the autopilot system to the _Finalizer’s_ coordinates. He cried out in frustration, feeling no measure of relief even as the shuttle broke free of the Rishi moon’s atmosphere. He slid out of the seat and onto the floor on hands and knees, his head hanging low between his shoulders.

_Not now, please, not now._ A low, rumbling sound vibrated up from deep in his belly and echoed within the confines of his helmet. _Please._

Kylo spent the next standard hour on the floor, curled in on himself, feeling bone and viscera shift and change, begging the stars once more to allow him to get safely back to his quarters before he lost control completely.

A warning chirped from the console, letting him know he must pull himself together to guide the shuttle into the hangar. He’d barely gotten it landed when he was out of the cockpit door. He brushed past Troopers as they were unbuckling from their seats. “Deal with this and report to Phasma when you’re through.”

“Sir.”

Pilots, Troopers, and technicians alike gave him wide berth as he moved briskly through the hangar toward the turbolift that would deliver him to the upper levels of the practical floating city that comprised the craft.

“Ren.” General Hux was standing in front of lift doors as they slid open. “I was on my way down. How good of you spare me the inconvenience. I trust you’ve not returned empty handed.”

Kylo’s vision was too keen. The lightest of flutters in the vein at Hux’s temple was utterly distracting. Kylo slipped past him into the corridor.

“Ren?”

Hux reached out, fingers grasping the fabric of Kylo’s coat at his elbow. Kylo wrenched his arm away, snarling. Hux’s face screwed up in agitation. The page at his side became suddenly very interested in whatever report was displayed on her datapad.

“You have your eel. I will give you my report before the end of Beta shift.” He smoothed down his sleeve and squared his shoulders, filling his chest with breath and letting it out slowly. “I will be in my quarters.”

Kylo continued on his way, leaving Hux and the page standing in front of the lift bank. “What are you looking at?” He heard Hux snap at the girl. “Move.” Kylo glanced over his shoulder, just catching a glimpse of the page hustling onto the lift and Hux striding on behind her.

The _Finalizer_ was a cacophony of scents and sounds, an assault on Kylo’s senses. His thoughts grew scattered, threads blowing on the wind that he struggled to grab hold of. Complex awareness grew soft, reducing to individual, abstract elements. He began to shed layers, yanking off his gloves and plunging them clumsily into his pockets, shucking his heavy tunic and letting it dangle off of one arm. He slammed his hand onto the access panel at his door and threw himself inside.

Safe within his quarters, he wrenched his helmet from his head, a scream of frustration and pain ripping through his chest and throat. His fingers cracked and lengthened—tips already discolored and skin split anew. His back hunched into an unnatural curve. His jaw shifted and popped and he bit into his cheek with sharp teeth. Kylo lurched toward his chest of drawers and snatched up the hypo and vial of Tranqarest still sitting blessedly on top. He dropped to his knees and filled the hypo with shaking hands, ripping at his collar and sleeves with strong, sharp nails. He plunged the tip into his shoulder, shouting in a confusing mix of fear and relief.

Within minutes his heart was beating slower, not quite battering itself against his ribs like a frightened bird. The rush of sounds—people, equipment, the ever-present shifting of space itself—dulled in his ears. The heat in skin dissipated, his cheek growing cold against the durasteel floor.

Kylo focused on the texture of the steel against his face, fixing his gaze on the wall on the far side of the room, trying to retreat into the space he went to during meditation—perfect darkness and stillness.

He spent hours there on the floor, feeling in revers every shift and change as keenly as before in spite of the sedative, willing his body and the Force flowing through it to bend to his will. Eventually, the surge of adrenaline that had been fueling him petered out and the Tranqarest took hold—and the end of Beta shift ticked by on the chronometer.

Kylo swam through the haze of exhaustion and sedative, aware in some primitive part of his brain that there was an electronic chirping sound coming from somewhere across the room. He dragged himself up off of the floor with considerable effort, each limb feeling heavy and dead, and sat down hard at his desk. His tired mind mused over the furniture, baffled as to why he of all people would require a desk. Some more rational part of himself remembered that most of the furnishings were standard issue, already installed when he was assigned to this ship. He swiped at the lock screen of his datapad to access his messages, noting the chrono display and that Beta shift was well and over, Gamma underway for some time now.

_REPORT TO ME IMMEDIATELY._

Kylo rolled his eyes as the brisk tone of the message, no signature or salutation, not that it needed either. Hux would be in his quarters at this time, likely working through his never ending stream of requests, declarations, acquisitions, intelligence, and orders. Kylo stood slowly and stretched, his joints popping and his muscles burning in a much more reassuring manner, just stiff. He went into his refresher, pulling his ruined shirt over his head and dropping in amongst the other debris of his belongings on the floor as he went, and gulped water from the faucet. He picked up his pleated tunic and slipped it on then eased his helmet over his head. Heading for Hux’s quarters, he fished his gloves from his pockets and replaced them as well. Armored, he approached Hux’s door.

He didn’t wait for Hux to admit him, simply swiping his hand through the air and opening the door himself. Hux looked up from his datapad, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his face and his spectacles reflecting the display on the screen. His pale arms and face looked Umbaran under the electronic glow.

“Ren.” The door _whisshhed_ shut behind him.

“If it is my report you want I will give it now.”

“I couldn’t care less about your damned report.” He removed his spectacles, setting them down beside the datapad.

“Then what do you want? You are wasting my time.”

Hux smacked his palm hard against the desktop. “I will no longer stand for your insubordination!”

“I am a commander of this ship and I will act how I—“

“You are _a_ commander. I am _the_ commander. You will afford me the respect of my rank if you expect me to continue to give you free reign of this craft.” Hux got to his feet and regarded Kylo with clenched jaws and tight fists. They stood there, facing off silently as minutes ticked by on the chronometer, until Hux reached out and thumbed the release on Kylo’s helmet. He placed it almost reverently on his desk and turned back to Kylo.

Kylo’s heart pounded hard in his chest, fearful of what he still looked like.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Genuine concern registered in the downturn of Hux’s lips. “Nothing. I—“

“Something is wrong. You are acting… erratically. More so than usual.” His almost playful tone made Kylo’s cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. Hux stepped closer, laid a hand against his cheek. “When the Stormtroopers you took with you reported to Phasma, they made some rather concerning claims.”

“And you put weight on the word of a Stormtrooper?”

“When they are bold enough to speak out? Absolutely.” Hux’s hand was cool and dry. Kylo found himself leaning _just so_ into the touch. “They’re convinced you need some kind of medical attention, that you’re injured grievously or—“

“I am not injured. I am not ill.” No, it went far deeper than that.

“I cannot do anything to help you if you do not tell me what is wrong.”

“You _cannot_ help.”

“What is it then? The Force? Your eternal struggle for power is—“

“It is not that simple.” Kylo drew away from Hux’s touch, turning away.

“Ren.” Softer this time, all the agitation gone out of him. Hux’s nose brushed up against the side of Kylo’s neck, his lips pressing lightly at Kylo’s clammy skin. “I know. I’m sorry.” He pressed another kiss into Kylo’s neck, more firmly. “Not for demanding respect, though.”

He shrugged Hux away, “Don’t.” Kylo turned, fisting his hands in the front of Hux’s undershirt. He could not tolerate gentleness. Not then. Not from Hux.

Hux surged forward, his hands gripping Kylo’s hair hard and pulling him in. Kylo gasped, his bottom lip caught sharply between Hux’s teeth and breaking open again. “Is that what you need?”

Kylo’s eyes went wild and wide and he ran his tongue over his newly bloodied lip.

_Yes._

He pushed Hux back against the door, kissing him hard and snarling into Hux’s open mouth. Hux shoved his knee between Kylo’s legs, knocking them apart. Kylo pressed himself in and down, rolling his hips against the offered thigh and crushing Hux against the door. Hux pulled away, craning his neck to wipe his mouth against the sleeve of his tank. Kylo hauled him away from the wall and they stumbled toward Hux’s bedroom, hands still fisted in fabric and hair, snapping and snarling at each other.

Finally near the bed, Hux released Kylo’s hair, making his scalp tingle with the release of pressure. Deft hands yanked down the zip on the front of Kylo’s tunic and a clever mouth clamped onto his clavicle through the sweat-damp fabric of his undershirt. He shuddered as Hux pulled away, dragging his teeth hard.

Hux gasped in surprise as Kylo turned him, pushing him down into the mattress with a bounce. Hux tilted his hips back, hands far less clever over his own belt. Kylo grabbed his wrists, putting Hux’s hands down against the sheets and trusting he’d leave them there. He curled his hands around the waistband of Hux’s crisp jodhpurs and yanked, baring pale speckled skin to the low light of the room and grabbing at firm flesh. Hux shivered, his mouth slack and wet, pushing his ass back into the pressure of Kylo’s gloved hands.

Kylo fumbled with the closure of his pants, openly groaning in relief when his cock was free. He pressed himself down along the length of Hux’s body, slotting his growing into the cleft of Hux’s ass. Hux made a low, pleased sound and rolled his body beneath Kylo’s weight.

“Don’t you dare think you’re fucking me dry.”

Kylo huffed in annoyance at Hux’s smart tone and smacked his hips forward experimentally, pleased at the sound Hux made in response.

Kylo drew himself up, spitting into his hand and rubbing the saliva along his length and against Hux’s cleft. He pressed himself down rutting into Hux’s flesh fast and hard, watching as the muscle ripped against the impact over and over again.

He pushed Hux’s undershirt up, wanting to touch Hux’s smooth back, to trace the curve of his spine with his tongue as he thrust. He licked a shining stripe along the notches of Hux’s vertebrae and admired the flush that was darkening in his face and spreading down the back of his neck and shoulders.

Wetness rolled down the inside of Kylo’s nose and his heart fluttered, dark red drops splattering against Hux’s pale skin. Kylo made a horrified sound that Hux clearly misinterpreted when he responded with a throaty, “ _Ren.”_

Kylo swiped at his face with the back of his hand and thrust faster, his chest tight with anxiety that broke up into thousands of buzzing creatures as he came with a shout, the product of his exertions striping Hux’s back and sliding to pool in the dip at the base of his spine. Kylo collapsed against him, heedless of the mess.

They lay there panting, Hux trapped between Kylo’s bulk and the mattress for some time until Hux spoke. “Feel better now?”

Kylo answered with a tight laugh and rolled away. Surprisingly, he was.

Later, Kylo listened as the sonic shower ran, Hux believing the sounds of his own pleasure were sufficiently muffled. Returning to the bedroom, Hux frowned at Kylo’s wet hair on his pillows where Kylo was stretched languidly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question.” Hux set about drying his body with a scratchy standard-issue towel.

“Why the _fuck_ did you want that pfassking fish?”

Hux snorted in amusement. “Well, we’re dangerously low on rations for the Stormtroopers and not scheduled to stop for supplies for some time.”

“So you had me risk my life to catch them _lunch_?”

Hux laughed again. “The blood.” He raised a brow at Kylo’s confused expression as he sat down on the edge of the bed and shoved him over. “It’s impossible to get off. Something about the chemistry. I’m going to weaponized it.”

Kylo allowed himself a smile. “Such a clever general.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Hux stretched himself alongside Kylo and commanded the lights to dim. “If it works I’ll need another.”


	2. Chapter 2

With each passing year, Ben found it harder to remember a time that he didn't have this strange thing clawing at him from the inside out, threatening to burst out of his skin and take his place. The more he thought about it, the more it became clear to him that it has always been there, even if he hadn’t been aware.

It had started with a whisper—a soft voice barely audible at the edges of his mind. He was confused at first, his childlike perception of things making him believe there was something wrong with him. No one else he knew heard voices in their heads.

After months of guilt and indecision, Ben sought his uncle's council. Luke was quiet and kind and wise, surely he would be able to help? Ben felt safe in the knowledge that Luke imparted—that every Force user possessed the potential to communicate without words, that they could stretch out their minds and brush up against someone else's if they were two feet away or even two parsecs.

Ben didn't understand a great deal about the Force. He knew his uncle had it, that his mother did. He heard them talking in low voices late at night when he should have been in bed—talking about how strong it was in Ben, that Luke could feel it now, that Leia had felt it even before he'd had a name.

Luke said that sometimes, when someone was very sensitive to the Force that they might reach out to someone else's mind without realizing it. He said that sometimes, even for sensitives who had been at it their whole lives, that the hive of minds around them crowded into their heads without their permission—sometimes the collective consciousness of the universe was just  _too much._

He also said that with time and practice, Ben would be able to tune in and tune out. To listen or not. To communicate or remain silent. To open and close.

Ben tried.

The voice didn't stop.

It got, not louder, but more solid. The soft, breathy quality hardened.

Ben could remember a single weekend very clearly. He supposed it was so vivid because it was such a rare occasion: No diplomatic duties had kept his mother away late into the night. His father was home, content in their apartment and not pacing the floors like he was determined to wear a rut into them.

Luke had been with the family for supper and then had gone to see his friend Wedge and, "Drink to the Red Squadron."

Chewie was far away on planet called Takodana that was full of green and blue and Ben didn't know why anyone would ever want to leave such a place but when Ben had listened in while Han was on the comlink Chewie had said he'd be back as soon as he fixed the jammer. Ben asked if Chewie would bring anything back for him and he made his rumbly sound that meant he was amused. The Wookie's loud intonations had frightened the spukamas right out of Ben's arms.

"Echo! Come back!" The silky black creature turned and regarded Ben with wide golden eyes before continuing toward the back of the apartment—likely to curl up in Ben's bed and hog his pillow.

_Command it. Bend it to your will._

Leia had poked her head out of the family room where she'd been sitting to read the evening holojournal. "Did you say something, Ben?"

His heart clenched in his chest and his face flushed with heat. "Echo ran away."

She smiled and shook her head, "No, after that. Did you need me?" He opened his mouth and closed it again. The voice was silent. "Ben?" Leia raised a brow high in question and stepped further into the hall.

Ben shook his head vigorously, "No, Mor."

"You sure?" He nodded. Leia glanced down at the chrono on her wrist. She gasped at the reading and swept Ben up into her arms even though they both knew very well he was too big for it. "Well, no matter. It's time for someone to get himself to bed."

Ben made himself limp in her arms and moaned, "Do I  _have_ to?"

She put him on his feet, her elbows hooked into his underarms. His heels skidded against the floor and he laughed at Leia's awkward forward waddle as she dragged him gently across the carpet and into his bedroom. She lifted him up and plunked him down on his bed, both of them laughing as he bounced and upset the spukamas curled in the middle. "You absolutely have to." She picked up one of his feet and set to work at unlacing his shoes. He wiggled his stockinged toes in the air when they were free and Leia feigned a fainting spell at the imaginary stench wafting up from his foot.

Han appeared in the doorway, Echo walking in circles through his legs and rubbing herself against him. "Don't you want to be well rested? It'd be a shame to be tired for your birthday."

Ben sighed, loathe to admit he was right, "Yes, Far."

"C'mon, get into your pajamas. I'll be back to say good night." Leia took a clean set from his dresser and passed it to him. She began to pull pins from her hair as she slipped out the door beside Han, squawking in exaggerated indignation when he bent his head down to plant a wet smack of a kiss against her cheek.

Han leaned into the room and whispered in a conspiratorial manner, "Want in on a secret, buddy?" Ben paused, his pajama top halfway over his head, caught on his ears. Han walked over and pulled it down, ruffling Ben's dark hair when he was done. "We're all going to the HFW." Ben's eyes widened in delight. "Sooner you get to sleep, sooner we can get there, yeah?" Ben tugged on the soft shorts that matched the sandy-colored top and dove into bed. Han leaned down and pressed a dry kiss to his forehead. "See you in the morning, Ben."

The voice was more insistent when he slept. It told him things he wanted to hear and things he didn't.

Ben wanted to hear that he had power, that he could do magnificent things with that power. He wanted to hear that someone would teach him—would draw him close under their arm and tell him how to unlock the door within him that would let him do more than float spoons and pens and a very annoyed Echo through the air to relieve the hours of tedious boredom he endured most days. He wanted to hear that he could fly the  _Falcon_ all on his own, that the way his hands had fit so naturally around the controls while he sat in his father's lap hadn't been something he'd imagined.

He didn't want to hear that no one amongst those closest to him would lead him down that path.

When the voice in his head took free reign in his slumber, Ben dreamt of a life of endless possibility.

He saw himself tall and strong, a saber in his hands—one that had been his uncle's and his grandfather's and now his—and his Master Jedi's robes swirling around his body in the wind. He stood on a rocky ridge overlooking the widest, bluest sea he'd ever laid eyes on. There was nothing and no one for miles around, maybe even on the entire planet. Though he was solitary, he was connected to everything and everyone. The Force flowed through him like water cutting through rock, the changes it made over thousands of years occurring in him in seconds, shaping and reshaping him again and again.

Ben woke in the small hours with his body aching. His joints hurt, his jaw throbbed. As he blinked into the semi-darkness of his bedroom, the bright moon just outside his window bathing him in soft light, everything looked too sharp. For a moment he believed that he was still lost in his dreams.

_Take it._ The voice whispered to him,  _It's yours to claim._

Ben didn't want anything more than the ache to stop. It was a familiar discomfort, his mother said it was growing pains—that enduring it now would mean he'd be as big and strong in reality as he was in his imagination. She said that she'd had them too, even if they hadn't amounted to much in the way of vertical ascent. She would grin and hug him close for a moment and let C3PO usher him away.

The spukamas was a streak of inky dark as she sprang up from the floor and onto the foot of the bed, she made a warning sound somewhere low in her throat that confused Ben. "Shush, Echo." She continued.

_Command._

"Shush, Echo."

_Mean it. Your intent drives your abilities. You must want it._

"Shush, Echo." The spukamas stopped, like pressing the  _mute_ button on the holovision. "Come here, Echo."

The spukamas stayed stubbornly in place, claws digging into the bedding.

_Do it!_

"Come here, Echo!" It felt as though something had both snapped apart and fallen into place in Ben's chest. Echo slinked up toward him and settled in his arms.

His satisfaction was balm for the aches in his body.

Early the next morning, Leia and Han loaded Ben into the back of the shuttle they'd taken for the day with a cooler full of snacks and a thermajug full of Ben's favorite fruity tea. The ride to the Hologram Fun World was longer than Ben might have liked, but the minutes ticked by much more pleasantly under the steady thrum of his parents' back-and-forth sniping, their tone mellow and affectionate as Ben poured over the bookchip Wedge had sent over as a present.

"You're awful quiet back there, buddy."

Ben pulled his attention away from the chip, lost in the excitement of the story. Wedge always knew just what Ben liked to read, a new chip for his growing collection arriving each month.

Leia laughed as she glanced back at him, autopilot long since engaged, and reached over the pilot's seat to shove her hand down into the cooler. "How'd you sleep?" Ben shrugged. "Thought I heard you get up. Echo giving you trouble?" Leia's forehead creased with concern, the expression gone in a flash.

"No. She was just... she was on my feet." Leia nodded, her smile returning, and pulled her own feet up onto her seat as she crunched on the dehydrated slices of fruit in her hand.

Ben was bone-tired halfway through the day, but he was no less enthusiastic about dragging his parents from attraction to attraction, whooping and jumping as he went.

"Buddy! Buddy! Hold up!" Han extricated his hand from Ben's and collapsed onto the park bench they'd wound up beside. "Let's have a rest, okay?"

Leia let out a whoosh of breath and sat down beside him, beckoning Ben closer. "How about you two go down to the Hall of Reflections while I get in line for our Anywhere Room tickets?"

Ben pursed his lips, rocking on his heels with indecision.

“It’ll be fun! We’ll get to see all the versions of you there are.” Han raised his brows expectantly.

“What’s that mean?” Ben squinted, suspicious, and thought of the way he appeared in his dreams. He wondered if Leia had seen it—or if Han had suddenly developed the ability. He imagined a wall around his mind, just like Luke had taught him, guarding his dream-self.

“The mirrors! They make you look different! Funny and scary and fat and skinny and tall and short and scaly and hairy—“

“Okay!” Ben put his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Hall of Reflections.” He grinned and laughed and waited patiently while his parents gained their second wind, joking about what Ben might look like in each of the mirrors he was about to encounter.

Ben stuck close to Han’s side at first, overwhelmed by the sheer number of reflections that greeted him when they stepped inside the Hall. Ben gasped and turned slowly and fisted his hand in Han’s vest, “Far?”

Han ruffled his hair and put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s just a bunch of mirrors, buddy.” He made a face and bent down to Ben’s height. “Just mirrors.”

Ben nodded but didn’t move away as they advanced through the maze of reflections.

The tension eased with each successive image. Ben and Han laughed at each other’s transformations. Ben became tall and square-shouldered as his father became squat and round. Their faces each became wrinkled and ancient and then impossibly young. Their skin changed from peachy-pink to purple to the sickly looked blue of the Umbaran people. They sprouted feathers and scales and Ben wiggled his hips to make the long, whip-like tail of his reflected self waggle around.

Ben shrieked in delight as Han threw back his shoulders and his reflection spread its wings across several mirrors. He gasped and ducked as the wings peeled away from the surface of the mirror, long feathers passing through him in a shower of projected light before they broke apart.

“Far!”

“Too bad they’re not real.” Han twisted around, looking at the wings. “I wonder how many parsecs I could get on these…” He trailed off, lost in thought and Ben scrambled to each mirror in that section in turn, trying to grow some wings of his own.

“Ben, don’t get too much ahead of me, okay buddy?” Han turned away from the mirror and came up beside Ben. “Not sure I could find you again.” A lopsided smile, soft and fond, stretched across his lips.

Ben grinned, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. “Catch me.”

“What?”

He took off at a sprint, “Catch me!”

“Ben, wait!”

Ben laughed and gasped and shrieked as he ran and skipped through bewildering, changing sights and the twisting corridors of mirrors and tricky clear panels that blocked his way.

He stumbled into a wide, circular room, the image of himself—normal, boring Ben Solo with features his mother insisted he’d grow into and limbs edging toward gangly—a boy with no real power or talent to match his wildest dreams—reflected back at him a thousand times over from every angle.

Ben turned around slowly, regarding himself from the front and back and side, studying the details.

_See yourself._

“I do.” Ben frowned and tugged at his tunic, trying to smooth the front. He shifted his belt around his waist and rubbed at the back of one calf with the opposite foot.

_You do not. See yourself._

Ben scowled. He was neither blind nor stupid. He pushed his fingers though his hair and tucked it behind his ears. He wrinkled his nose and untucked it again

_See!_

Ben squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “I _do_ see!”

When he opened them again, ready to try with every ounce of concentration at his disposal to shut the voice out of his head, he was startled. Instead of Ben as he was reflected over and over again, there was a single figure before him. The figure was tall, even taller than Han, and draped in robes so black they seemed to draw every last bit of light in and smother it. The figure wore a mask that ticked at the back of Ben’s mind with familiarity he couldn’t quite place. A broad, gloved hand rested on the hilt of a saber at the figure’s hip.

_See._

“I—is that—it’s not—it can’t be _me._ ”

The figure reached up and removed its mask, a hiss of air audible as it released. Ben stepped back, drawing in a surprised breath. The figure, a man, _had_ to be him. There was Ben’s nose, his wide mouth, his severe brow. The figure’s dark eyes were stormy and dangerous in a way that Ben’s never were.

_See, Ren._

“My name is _Ben_. You know that.”

_Is it?_

The voice laughed. The figure multiplied, reflected as many times and as many ways as regular-Ben had been. It doubled over as if in pain, clutching at its head and gut.

“What—what’s happening?” Ben could hardly keep the horror out of his whisper. “What’s hurting him?”

_You are._

“No!”

The figure fell to its knees, hugging long arms around its middle like it was trying to hold its guts in place. It raised its face, mouth open in a wide, if silent, scream. The face shifted and changed. The teeth grew sharp and frightening. The eyes became the same liquid gold as Echo’s, the pupils contracting. The nose widened and flared.

Ben’s body began to ache as if in sympathy with the agony the reflection seemed to be in. His head was light, the room tilted under his feet.

_You are the cause of his pain._

“Why?” Ben sobbed, not sure how he ended up on the floor.

_You will not let him be who and what he is destined to be._

Ben splayed his fingers against the cool durasteel floor, trying to get some semblance of balance back. His nails looked dirty. His mother would make him scrub them before they stopped for lunch.

“Mor!” His face grew wet with tears, the reflection becoming fuzzy as his eyes filled with the salty stuff.

Ben’s jaw hurt.

Every speck of dirt on the floor came into sudden and sharp focus. He hazarded a look up at the reflection—the version of himself who was in pain because of him.

“It’s not my fault.”

_I have seen it._

The reflection lurched forward, reaching out to Ben as its body hunched and its shoulders shifted from a dozen angles all at once. Ben curled in on himself in terror, a shout ripping up the back of his throat.

“Ben?” Han’s voice sounded so incredibly far away.

_Let him be._

“Ben!”

He pulled away in fear that the reflection had gained matter and gravity enough to seek physical recompense for the harm Ben was unconscious of having caused.

Han’s face was full of overt concern. “Far!” He grabbed Ben’s arms tight and gathered him close, shushing and soothing him there on the floor. “Far.”

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Ben hazarded a peek over Han’s shoulder and saw nothing more than the two of them. Ben as he knew himself peered back, eyes red and raw, and the voice in his head laughed with a breathy kind of mirth.

Much calmer, Ben allowed Han to lead him by the hand out of the circular room and out into the bright, simulated sunlight.

“My son is in there and he _needs me._ You will let me pass!” Leia was just beyond the entrance of the attraction, the tickets she’d gone to fetch crumpled in her fist and her face edging toward red as she argued with a fat man with green skin and a security droid.

“Mor!”

Leia’s head whipped around, her eyes falling on Ben with relief. She abandoned her argument and pushed past the fat man and the droid and sweeping toward Ben and Han with barely controlled urgency.

His mother touched his face, ran her fingers through his hair, rubbed his arms as if trying to warm him. “Are you alright?”

Ben hesitated. “Yes.”

Han’s mouth turned up on one side, equally as hesitant. “Kiddo just got lost.” Leia looked at Ben directly in the eye, making him feel awkward under her scrutiny. “Found him.”

Leia smiled, looking tired. “How about we take a break? Have lunch and decide if it’s time to head home?”

Ben nodded and reached for her hand with his free one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my knowledge, "Mor" is Norwegian for "Mother" and "Far" is "Father." Please correct me if I'm wrong. I was hoping there was some kind of affectionate thing Leia might have called Bail and Breha or some Alderaanian word to use. No luck, just boring old Galactic Standard. But, when picking my own words, well, there are a lot of reasons I am quite content with tiny Ben Solo calling his mother by a name that literally sounds like "more" and his father by one that sounds like "far."


End file.
